


the Room

by themuslimbarbie



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuslimbarbie/pseuds/themuslimbarbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a rubbish name for a room, she knows–almost as rubbish as a man only called the Doctor–but she cannot, for the life of her figure out its exact purpose so she has no bloody idea what else to call it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the Room

 

  


Sometimes Amy thinks that the TARDIS is a bit like the universe–large, vast, endless. It's like she's always growing and shaping, collecting and forming new things and places for her to discover. So that's exactly what she does, she searches, she explores, she discovers. There are countless rooms, each holding its own treasures.

In the corridor above the kitchen, behind the third door on the right, she finds a room filled with nothing but hats. The door across the hall from the bathroom has bouncy floors. Two rooms down from her own bedroom, there's a room filled with nothing but soap bubbles. Seriously, it's amazing how she still finds anything surprising at this point.

But some of the rooms look as if they belonged to someone. They're taken, precious, you know? On the very top corridor she finds a room with a chemistry set and a few bottles labeled "Nitro-9" scattered about. Two levels below she finds a one decorated with soft pink walls and a shirt with the UK flag tossed on the bed. Another room across the hall has walls decorated with newspaper clippings and a journalism ID on the table. A room a level below that has a picture of a woman with hair almost as red as hers hugging a short, elderly man. And Amy knows exactly who these rooms belong to–the ones from before. The girls from before her time.

It makes her wonder how long it will be before someone else comes along and stumbles upon her room. What will they think? Will they know even know who she is and what she means to the Doctor? Or will she be just another room in the long list of girls?

Knowing her Doctor, she'll bet on the latter.

Still, Amy wanders through the TARDIS and searches through all of the rooms, desperate to at least make a dent in the mystery behind each. Because the TARDIS reminds her a bit of the universe–large, vast, endless–and so each room is a bit like another planet.

One night–after they leave the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, after she's laid in bed, tossing and turning, trying so desperately to sleep–she finds _the Room_. (It's a rubbish name for a room, she knows–almost as rubbish as a man only called _the Doctor_ –but she cannot, for the life of her figure out its exact purpose so she has no bloody idea what else to call it).

The first thing she notices is a vase of sunflowers, just like the ones Vincent painted for her. They're full and bright so and so bloody alive that it makes her smile and breaks her heart at the same stupid time. Further into the room she finds her old dolls, the ones she made of her and the Doctor when she was a little girl. They're absolutely embarrassing and she wants to hide them in a chest, but it sort of warms her heart at the same time.

But what stands out the most to her is the white costume hanging in the back of the room. Amy knows exactly what it is the moment she spots it–her nurse kissogram costume. Except she can't understand why in the bloody hell her _kissogram_ costume would be on the TARDIS. Especially this one.

It's almost funny in some sort of made Doctor-y way, because she loves that costume. Really loves it. In fact there were times when she couldn't decide which she preferred, the nurse or the policewoman. They're both important to her, special. They both mean something. She wore the policewoman one the day they caught Prisoner Zero and the Doctor first returned for her. But she cannot, for the life of her, remember why she loved the nurse's one. It feels important–so, _so_ important–but she can't remember why.

Why can't she remember?

Amy stands there and stares at the costume and tries to remember. She tries and tries until it hurts so bad, but she has no stupid idea _why_. Finally when she feels on the verge of tears, she leaves the Room.

Of course she goes back again and again. How can she not when it feels so bloody important? But she can never remember and she has no idea why.

Part of her considers asking the Doctor.

She never does.

It would be stupid to, she knows. Yeah sure, the Doctor's some sort of mad genius, she knows, but there's no reason he would know. For God's sake, he hadn't even understood what sort of a job a kissogram was (as if the stupid name hadn't given it away). So no, she never asks him. Never bothers. She just returns to the Room over and over again, trying to make a dent in the mystery behind the kissogram suit.

One day after the Doctor returns from being a lodger and she finds the ring in his pocket, Amy goes to the Room. For some reason she can't bloody understand (which seems to be becoming a more and more common occurrence the more she travels with her Doctor), she thinks that the two might be connected.

What she finds when she opens the door, however, is something completely else. It's the same room alright (the vase, the dolls, the costume–they're all still there), but there's more to it this time. All around the Room there are large photographs of people. Most of them are young, hot girls.

There's one of a blonde holding a bottle of Nitro-9 with the name _Ace_ written across the bottom of the frame. Another of one in that ridiculous UK shirt she found in the room with the pink walls ( _Rose_ ); a woman with almost as red as hers ( _Donna_ ); the girl from the journalism ID ( _Sarah Jane_ ). The photos hang around the Room, each giving her a different name and a different face ( _Peri, Mel, Susan, Jack, Leela, Romana, Jo_ ) until there are more than she can read.

"Amy?"

She stands still, her eyes locked on a dark haired woman in a doctor's jacket. "These are them, yeah? The ones you travelled with before." He doesn't answer her. "Is there one of me?"

"No."

"Why?"

"There isn't a reason yet." The words _because you're still here_ linger in the air.

She spins on her heel and faces him. "What is this place, Doctor?"

He frowns. "What are you doing here?"

"I come here from time to time. What is this place?"

His frown deepens and he looks at her a bit concerned. "Why would you come here? What could possibly draw you here?"

"Why aren't you answering my question? What is this place?"

He stares at her for a moment that seems to last fourteen years. Finally he sighs a tired, old sigh. "I call it the Forget-Me-Not Room."

Part of her wants to laugh and tell him that's a rubbish name for a room (almost as bad as _the Room_ ), but she can't bring herself to. "Why?" she asks instead. He doesn't answer. She presses her lips together and looks around the room.

 _Forget-Me-Not_.

It isn't a room of things you've forgotten, that's for sure. She remembers Vincent, she remembers the dolls, she remembers having the kissogram suit. And even though he never bloody talks about them, she knows the Doctor remembers all the ones before her. Just because he doesn't mention them doesn't mean he's forgotten.

She still remembers the sunflowers Vincent painted for her; she still remembers the nights she played with her dolls when the Doctor never returned to her; she still remembers running about in her kissogram costume and kissing strangers because it was a laugh. She could never forget any of it, but that doesn't mean she sits around and thinks about them. It just means she's moved on with her life and she has other things now.

 _Forget-Me-Not_.

Oh!

"It's a room of things you're afraid of forgetting, isn't it?" After all, the Doctor's old, and wise, he knows so much about the universe. He's been through so much, done so much, met so many people; it would make sense for him to be afraid of forgetting.

Amy knows she's right, because the Doctor gets that look on his face, the one where he looks impressed with her while simultaneously looking like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He turns and starts babbling something other about _Forget-Me-Nots_ and _Earth flowers_ and something about aliens from Venus, while slowly starting to ease her towards the exit. It's on the tip of her tongue to tell him to shut up when she sees the picture hidden away in the corner.

She ducks under his arm and runs towards it. It's of a boy in his twenties, dorky, and with a rather large nose. He almost, sort of looks familiar, but that isn't what catches her attention. It's the name across the bottom of the frame.

 _Rory_.

She frowns and traces her fingers over the letters, mumbling the name to herself.

"Amy…"

"This is him, isn't it?"

The Doctor hesitates for a moment before he answers, "who?"

"Rory. It was the name you said when we were with Vincent. This is him, yeah? He was your friend, wasn't he?" He doesn't answer her again. For some strange reason it doesn't bother her nearly as much as it normally would; she's far too distracted to be annoyed with him right now. "You lost him." It isn't a question.

"Yes, recently."

She doesn't say anything else after that. She probably should, she knows, but she doesn't. She just turns, closes the distances between them, and wraps her arms around him. Because she can tell he's hurting, even if he won't admit it, and it's the only way she can think to comfort him.

He tenses under her touch and when she finally pulls back she thinks she sees a bit of guilt flash across his face, but it's gone before she can really tell. He replaces it with this stupid unreadable expression and she can tell he knows something he isn't telling her.

"What are you doing here, Amelia? What drew you to this room?"

She frowns. "Nothing drew me here. I was exploring the TARDIS and I found it."

"Well, yes. But that's not what I'm asking. I already figured that bit out. What I want to know is why you came back. What keeps drawing you here?"

Part of her considers not answering, but the words fall out of her mouth without her will. The stupid idiot has that effect on her sometimes. "My kissogram costume."

He frowns. "I'm sorry. What?"

This time Amy rolls her eyes. She looks past him and scans the room until she finds the bloody thing. "That, over there." She points to the short white costume. He completely around, but he freezes as soon as he sees it. "Doctor? Are you alright?"

He walks towards it. "It's a nurse's suit." His fingers run over the shoulder of the material.

"Yeah, I know." She follows him. "It was one of my favourites, too."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why a nurse? What was so special about this particular costume?"

"I don't know. Because." She doesn't tell him that that's the exact question that's been haunting her ever since found the bloody room.

"Amy, you're crying."

Her eyes widen and her finger brush against her cheeks. When the hell did that happen? "Shut up. No, I'm not." She wipes the tears away, but a fresh pair replaces them. The Doctor stares at her for a moment with this strange look of guilty and pity, and she hates it. She snaps her head away from him and looks at the kissogram suit instead. "It feels important, like it meant something to me, but I can't remember what."

"Have you tried to remember?"

"What sort of a rubbish question is that? Of course I've tried. I've been trying ever since I found the bloody thing."

"Nothing is ever forgotten–not really–but you have to want to remember. So tell me honestly, do you want to remember?"

She doesn't. She wants to want to, but when she really stops and tries to, it hurts. It hurts so bloody bad that she doesn't think she can bear it. But _she doesn't understand why_.

"Amy?"

"Shut up," she snaps. "Just forget it, okay?"

She doesn't meet his gaze, but she doesn't have to, because she can feel the pity radiating off of him. "You already have," he mumbles.

"Shut up!" She pushes past him and runs out of the bloody place. She runs and runs until she's as far away from the Room as she can get; until she's locked away safe in her own room.

A week later, after they've returned from their trip to Space Florida and the Doctor thinks she's fast asleep, she returns to the Room. She sits and stares at the bloody kissogram trying and trying to remember; trying and trying to will herself to _want_ to remember.

She never does.


End file.
